Shifting Winter Woes into Wonder

Finding Your Roots in the Quiet Season

It starts subtly for many of us as the days start to shorten, sensing that familiar craving for more sleep beginning to creep back in. We are slowly smothered by a weighted blanket of mental fuzziness that begs for more rest over more responsibilities.

For some, the inevitable seasonal shift (biochemically driven by reduced daily light exposure) can sharpen into the more clinical edges of Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD). But for almost everyone in our culture, this season adds a second, more complicated burden: the glittering, demanding (and all-too-often lonely) whirlwind of the "holiday season," rife with expectations and obligations.

We find ourselves stressed by a calendar that shouts about joy and connection, even as the natural world outside is demonstrating the profound necessity of slowing down and turning inward. We’re told to consume and celebrate at the very moment our bodies and the ecosystem are whispering a different command: rest.

This clash isn't just exhausting; it's a recipe for a unique kind of dissonance and strife. We pathologize our need for dormancy as "depression," and we (mis)interpret our exhaustion against a backdrop of forced cheer as personal failing.

Modern life, with its 24/7 artificial light and constant productivity demands, has severed us from the ancient rhythm of the seasons. We’ve lost the cultural container that once honored winter's purpose. In many traditions, winter wasn't a bleak void to be endured, but rather a sacred, quiet space for a different kind of work.

It was the time for storytelling by the fire, for mending tools, for dreaming and planning. It was a period of necessary conservation, where energy was drawn down to the roots to ensure a resilient spring. The natural world shows us this wisdom everywhere: the tree isn't dead; it's diverting all vital energy to its core. The bear isn't lazy; it's in a state of profound metabolic preservation.

Our mental health framework often misses this. We seek only to "fix" the low energy, to brighten the mood. But what if part of healing our "winter woes" is to stop seeing them solely as symptoms, and to start listening to what they might be pointing us toward?

A Nature-Informed Path Through the Dark

But this post isn't about romanticizing hardship or dismissing clinical SAD (which benefits greatly from light therapy and professional support). It's about offering a layer of meaning and intention to our relationship with this season. And it's about moving from resistance to re-alignment.

Here are a few ways to begin that shift, both for clinicians to ponder and for anyone seeking a different experience:

Reframe "Hibernation" as a Practice: Challenge the guilt around needing more rest. What if, instead of "cancelled plans," you scheduled an "evening of hibernation"? What does your species-specific hibernation look like? Perhaps it's a warm salt bath, an actual hour with a neglected book, or simply lying on the couch in the dim light, sans screens. Intention transforms lethargy into a restorative ritual.

Seek "Soft Fascination" Outdoors: The research on Attention Restoration Theory tells us that natural environments provide a gentle, effortless form of engagement that fatigued brains crave. Winter is perfect for this. A short daily walk (without a podcast) centered on just noticing… from the cascading fractals across the bare bark of boughs and branches; the crunch of glistening frost underfoot, and the way the low sun gilds the surrounding landscape can all be more regulating than another hour under fluorescent lights. It's not about a strenuous hike; it's about letting the quiet, stark beauty hold your gaze and anchor you into the present.

Practice Grounding in the Cold (Safely): The concept of "earthing" or grounding to connect our body directly to the earth's surface has preliminary research suggesting benefits for mood and inflammation. In winter, this can be as simple as standing on a porch barefoot for 60 seconds (if safe), feeling the cold shock and stability of the ground, then returning inside offers an opportunity to experience the natural rhythm of somatic pendulation. It's a potent, accessible way to remember you are part of a larger, stable system, not just a mind battling a mood.

Cultivate a "Roots" Mentality: Use the inward pull of winter for internal work. This is the season for journaling, for therapy, for sifting through the emotional "soil" and turmoil of the past year. While summer is for branching out expansively, winter is for tending roots. In session with clients, I might explore: What needs composting from this past year? What seed of an intention for spring feels dormant but alive in you now?

Re-envision "The Holidays": Actively push back against the capitalistic script. Could a gift be a shared experience of winter instead? A trip to see the stars on a cold night, a promise to walk together once a week, no matter the temperature? Could your celebration honor quiet connection over festive cacophony? Creating even one small tradition that feels aligned with the season's natural energy can be an act of mental health preservation.

Winter’s invitation is one of deep restoration. It asks us to be like the perennial plant or the deciduous tree: to pull our energy in, to trust the unseen growth happening below the surface, and to understand that dormancy is not death. It is a vital phase in the cycle of resilience.   

We don't just cope with winter when we stop fighting the short days and start learning from them and we may just discover a quieter, more rooted part of ourselves that the endless summer of modern life never allowed to surface.